


Fuck Argent !

by MrsRidcully



Series: Disturbing Derek [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Derek has seen things, Knotting, M/M, Not gonna like this is just Porn, Peter is a Little Shit, Resolved Sexual Tension, background sterek, petopher, with a tiny bit of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:48:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29028216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsRidcully/pseuds/MrsRidcully
Summary: -When Peter said, "Fuck you Argent,"  he didn't think Chris would take him up on his offer.
Relationships: Background Derek Hale Stiles Stilinski, Chris Argent/Peter Hale
Series: Disturbing Derek [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2129544
Comments: 9
Kudos: 175





	Fuck Argent !

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DiscontentedWinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiscontentedWinter/gifts).



> This is 100 % says what it is on the box, its silly and sexy . Hope you enjoy this . Happy Level up Day Winter hope you enjoy this ...I would say Bunny made me do it but she just encouraged the madness my muse created.

It started, as things so often did between them, with a fight. Angry words and spat-out curses, usually followed by one or the other stalking out of the loft. This time though, it was different. The heat that coiled in Peter's belly was more than just annoyance and frustration with the hunter—it was something more potent than that. Before his brain had caught up with his body, he had Chris pinned to the wall, hand gripping the tender flesh of the hunter's throat.

He wanted to smirk at Chris’s feeble attempts to push him off, at the flare of repressed lust in those aqua blue eyes. Violence and sex, the two were so closely entertwined that it was hardly surprisng their constant sparring had led to this. He shuddered with a repressed desire to mark Chris’s throat with bite marks, stake a claim on that lovely skin.

Nose dipping down, he delicately sniffed the skin beneath Chris's ear, and grinned at the soft stutter in the hunter’s heartbeat and the almost breathless way Chris said his name. The first taste of forbidden fruit was always the sweetest, and one taste of Chris’s lips and Peter knew he would be back for more. With the violence they had visited upon each other, Peter was almost surprised at the gentleness of the kiss, the soft surrender as he coaxed Chris’s lips open, the fluttering of the pulse beneath his fingers as he nipped and teased with tongue and teeth. Soft nips led to deeper kisses.

Hands that before were clenched to punch were now pulling and tugging at clothing, touching and teasing. Claws previously intended to hurt were now tracing patterns on bare, scarred skin. 

The soft growls he pulled out of Chris as he fingered him open were like a drug. Peter prided himself on being a considerate lover, taking time to bring his partner pleasure, but tonight his wolf had taken the driver's seat, needing to claim and mark, to have the hunter smelling of his seed and his sweat, to hear Chris moaning on his knot. The punched out moans that left Chris when Peter mounted him were a song so pure that Peter lost himself in the feeling. The tight hot heat that surrounded his cock was nothing like he’d had before. 

It wasn’t gentle, not this time. Chris was laid open for him body and soul, and Peter took what was offered. His thrusts were hard and rough, but Chris spread himself wider, welcoming Peter. He moved with Peter, lips spit-glossed and bitten, eyes bright and alive, each primal thrust bringing them closer, yet not close enough.

Peter hammered into Chris, finding his own rhythm, coaxed on by the pliant, wanting body beneath him. Mouthing and sucking at Chris’s exposed neck, he let his teeth shadow over the sensitive skin there. The deep throb at the base of his cock was all the warning he had before his knot started to form. 

“I'm going to knot you, don’t know if I can stop myself,” Peter rasped out, nipping harder at the soft, exposed flesh of Chris’s shoulder.

Chris shuddered under Peter's touch and let out a desperate whine. “Please?” Chris begged, his voice made rough by the grunts and moans that Peter had forced out of him.

Peter slid his knot past the tight ring of muscle and rocked his hips, burying himself deeper in Chris's warm, silky channel, his fingers leaving bruises on Christopher’s war-marked skin.

Chris let out a choked gasp then moaned, deep and lust-filled. Peter reached beneath Chris and took him in hand, his slow measured strokes a counterpoint to his short, hard thrusts. Again, the sounds drawn from the man beneath him drove him on, the taste of his skin gunmetal and sweat. Peter drove into him again and again, his knot finally catching, and Chris’s body embraced it, slick, hot, tight, and so fucking perfect. Chris clenched around Peter’s knot, coming in hot spurts, and the filthy moan he let out was enough to push Peter over the edge. His orgasm tore through him, causing him to slump on top of Chris’s prone body, both men shuddering with aftershocks.

It may have only been ten minutes, or perhaps as long as an hour—Peter didn’t care—locked inside Chris. This was the closest a person could be to another, and he allowed himself time for gentleness, for soft touches and breathy kisses. Both men were giddy and even giggly, if such a thing were possible. 

“Well, this is new,” Chris, ever the pragmatist, snickered, letting out a gasp as Peter's knot shifted inside of him.

“I much prefer this way of sorting out our differences,” Peter agreed, nuzzling at Chris's neck before letting out a soft growl and nipping at Chris's ear as he ground against him. He wasn't the only one who let out a soft sigh when his spent cock slid from Chris.

He gently touched Chris’s swollen red pucker, letting the tip of his finger slide in and out, smirking at the tiny shudder he drew from Chris as he spread what was left of his come around the shiny, stretched rim. He couldn't lie, the way his seed was leaking out between Chris’s thighs and the sight of him laying there bred and spread had his wolf purring in satisfaction. He couldn’t help but imagine Chris fucked, filled, and fat with pups. He snorted to himself—his wolf was a kinky fucker—and filed the new information away for later. His wolf had some interesting ideas that he might need to revisit in the future. That is, if Chris was amenable.

A loud rap at the bedroom door had Peter growling, his wolf's protective instincts in overdrive. _ “What? _ ” he snapped.

Derek's gruff voice sounded from the other side of the door. “Once you two are done, I want that linen burned and my room aired out, and we are  _ never _ speaking about this _ ever _ !”

“Well at least we didn’t fuck on the _ stairwell, _ nephew!” Peter retorted, snorting at the slap on the chest he received from Chris.

“Still, I saw things that I never should have seen!” Derek yelled back. “I’m sleeping at the Stilinski’s!”

Peter listened as Derek's steps retreated down the stairs, holding his breath until he heard the solid slam of the loft door. Once he was sure Derek was out of earshot he let loose a peal of laughter, Chris snorting and giggling alongside him. Snuggling closer to Chris, he slung an arm around his waist. “Do I feel bad for using Derek’s bed and emotionally scarring my nephew? Maybe a little bit.”

Chris let out a soft hum. “But not bad enough to not do it again?” He sounded surprisingly hopeful.

Peter's hand drifted down to cup a warm handful of Chris’s ass, his mouth seeking out the blossoming bruise he had managed to create on Chris's neck “Round two?” he murmured against Chris’s skin.

Chris’s answering groan and the way he rocked back against Peter was answer enough.

He would buy Derek a new damn bed in the morning.

  
  


**Later at the Stilinskis**

“Der, babe. Tell me what's wrong.” Stiles wrapped himself, limpet style, around his grumpy wolf.

“I saw something, Stiles. Something bad, and wrong.” Derek shuddered and made a gagging sound.

“Oh, babe. What was it?” 

“ _ Chris Argent’s naked ass!”  _ Derek's eyes were so wide, his expression so stricken, that Stiles had to choke back a laugh.

“So Peter and Chris finally did the deed then?” Stiles waggled his eyebrows and grinned, ignoring Derek’s disapproving look.

Derek shuddered again. “Don't make me think about it, babe.” 

“And you saw Chris’s _ ass _ ? What was it like? Inquiring minds wanna know.” 

“I don’t wanna talk about it, Stiles.” Derek’s scowl was more comical than sad, and Stiles couldn’t resist pushing his luck.

“Did it have a nice little jiggle, or...”

“ _ Shut up, _ Stiles! Or I’ll tell Peter about that birthmark you have, the one on your—”

Stiles slapped a hand over Derek’s mouth, and considered that maybe he’d gone too far. Still, that had never stopped him before. He removed his hand and said, “So Der, Chris’s ass—did it look as good naked as it does in jeans?”

Honestly, the scream Derek let out into his pillow was uncalled for.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my Stuffs™


End file.
